Deadpool: Interview with a Psycho
by Professor Ultima
Summary: Everybody's favorite insane mercenary has given himself to a reporter and plans to share his misadventures with her. What might be in store for the poor girl? Rated T for minor language and violence. Please review after reading!
1. Chapter 1

**Deadpool: Interview with a Psycho**

Chapter 1: The Meeting (AKA; Why have you forsaken me, yellow boxes?!)

Samantha Cole cleared her throat and adjusted her glasses in the barely lit room as she sat with one leg over the other, fidgeting in her seat with a bit of nervousness. Her shoulder-length blonde hair adopted a slight sheen in the scant lighting as a ceiling fan accompanied the dim bulb. Sitting across from her was a leanly muscled figure clad in a red-and-black jumpsuit, who leaned forward with his head tilted and an eye cocked. The man was strapped with more firepower then an NRA convention: two bandoliers of frag grenades crossing over his torso to his waist, which had two pairs of handguns clipped to the belt in his hips that bore a buckle resembling his mask. On each of his thighs, a Mac-10 sub-machine gun with laser sight capability was holstered and placed upon his back were two katana swords, and though the blades were obscured behind him, Cole knew they had been cared for in a fashion that would make a samurai proud.

His face was completely concealed by the mask, which was divided by two black spots that surrounded his eyes and covered each respective side with red at the top, bottom, and center. His eyes were supplemented by contact lenses or maybe eyeholes covered by a Polaroid substance, which made both of them completely blank white. The design of the suit was both unnerving and intriguing as most super humans expose a bit of skin whereas this one had shown none whatsoever as though to hide something.

The man parallel to Cole, whose face seemed to grant the thought of a smile beneath the enigmatic mask, broke the silence suddenly. "I know how ya feel, toots; I'm feeling pretty naked without my yellow boxes." As he spoke cryptically, he looked around warily as if to expect a retort from somebody else in the room. Cole responded instead with a timid voice. "Y-yes, thank you, mister Wilson. What would you be willing to tell me first?" "Who did you say you were with again?" Deadpool shot back with an eyebrow raised. Cole brought her gaze up to meet his, not missing a beat and saying she was a reporter for New York's Daily Bugle. The masked man then gave a slow nod. "Well, seeing as you already know MY name, it's only fair that I know yours, babe."

Hardly one to call herself attractive, Cole mounted her feet with a precarious smile and put her hand forward as Wilson followed her lead, taking her hand as she gave her name as he requested. "Pleasure to meetcha. Can't say I enjoy the spotlight but eh…I'll take whatever I can." He said with a shrug before looking over his shoulder with disdain. "Still…what dumb-ass had this bright idea? A fanfiction?" His expression soon turned to worry. "I'm not gonna be kissing other dudes, am I?" he added with an almost audible shudder. Cole only stood, her eyes barely shading her look of fear and realization that this man was (and had long been) off his proverbial rocker. Nonetheless the show must go on, she thought, as she pulled out a notepad and pencil before sitting back in her respective chair. Deadpool did the same as he stared back at her with a bored look.

"So, I take it you wanna hear about my past, huh? Well, allow me to share it. I've only done it once but…here goes." Just then, as quickly as he sat down, Deadpool jumped to his feet, dancing about while beginning to rhyme.

Now this is a story all about how,

My life got flipped turned-upside down,

I'll only take a moment so sit there, fool,

And I'll tell ya how I became Deadpool.

In northern Canada, born and raised,

Outside the laundromat's where I spent mosta my days,

Chilling out, maxin', beating up kids,

Kicking out crap and giving out skids.

When a couple of doctors who were tellin' the truth,

Said there was cancer in this youth (He points to himself)

I get in an experimental project and wound up dead (!)

Not really, but just got voices in my head--

Cole raised a hand and smiled sympathetically. "Thank you but…Song is kind of hard to transcribe, for me at least." The psychopath shrugged in response. "It's cool. Don't have much after that anyways." The reporter then leaned forward with an interested look in her eyes behind gold-rimmed lenses. "You must get quite the dose of action, what with being the mercenary you are. How do you handle the pressure and have there been any jobs that are really tough to manage?" Deadpool seemed to drift away into thought for a few moments before looking back at her. "First off, the feeling of a good fight is how I manage my many stress issues. 'Course, if I'm having a bad day, I just shoot 'em. And I'm usually having a bad day. Secondly, I think I got a story for ya. There was one time that I had to break into a Stark industry armory for my employer. Naturally…somebody else wanted in as well."

Taking in a deep breath, Wilson started to share with the mild-mannered reporter the time he broke into a fortress only to find everything stolen, maybe even his heart.

Next Chapter: Collision Course (AKA; The Fable of Sable)


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2: Collision Course (AKA; The Fable of Sable)

The New Mexican desert: A select spot for Stark industries to stockpile all of their obsolete weaponry and mechanical advancements, for the fact that in the very middle of the no-man's-land that the arms facility is located is only known by a few select people: Tony Stark himself, Colonel James Rhodes (the War Machine) and most recently Wilson Fisk, better known as The Kingpin. Wanting a taste of this power, as did a few others, Kingpin decided to employ the mutant mercenary Deadpool to infiltrate and "secure" as much of the goods as he could, and would be rewarded promptly.

The building itself was hardly a fortress and was much less reclusive than one would expect. A three-story white square in the middle of the desert, the moon reflected off the many windowpanes onto the reddish-brown sand nearby. The facility was not fortified for the reasons of hardly anyone willing to travel so far off the beaten path to grab a few antiques, but little did the squad of armed personnel and several maintenance engineers suspect that it was about to become quite the hotspot that evening.

Footsteps echoed down the bleached white walls as moonlight poured down through the center atrium to illuminate the collection of exotic plants; included so that it did not all look artificial. Two guards, each with UMP 45 submachine guns in hand, walked side by side down the hallway. Six men total were charged with protecting the Stark depository, which was a pretty simple albeit boring job: Nothing ever happened as they walked side-by-side in separate shifts in a complete square, sometimes even up and down floors, if the night was interesting, though it seldom was.

"…When the bartender asks why he didn't order blood like the others, the other vampire pulls out a tampon and says "I'm having tea." came from one of the guards, to which his patrol-partner offered several schoolgirl titters and the other guards on the comm. channel gave a great many moans of protest. "That was retarded, Scott." came from a patroller on the opposite side of the complex. With indignation, "Scott" responded "Yeah? Let's see you do better, Greg. You're as funny as a dead goat." Before Greg could bite back, their commanding officer bumped into the channel. "Quit the comm.-gibber, ladies. Something just tripped the infrared laser grid on the roof. You want go check it out?" Greg scoffed along with Scott. "Probably just a bird, sir. Nothing to be worried abou-"

All the guards' sentences were cut short by a catastrophic crash from up above, as a shape plummeted through the atrium like a baseball in a window. Along with a noisy assault of glass clattering on the ceramic tile far below, a loud "BANZAAIIIII!" rang out from the direction of the dynamic burglar as he upholstered two machine pistols and began firing them randomly, the bullets pinging about and shattering plates of porcelain hither and thither. The residents were scrambling to reach the bottom floor and take cover once the assailant made touchdown, which he did after a matter of seconds.

Deadpool landed in the soil of the main floor's garden, his head bowed and his pistols pointed downwards whilst he kneeled, the weapons' barrels still blazing red and smoking from their rapid discharge. The shadowy black and the bloody red of his bodysuit took on an ominous and eerie appearance in the silver luminescence of the moon. His blank eyes squinting with purpose and murderous intent, the "visitor" then reached his feet slowly in parallel to the guards, who were quaking with fright, before his eyes widened suddenly and he hopped up and down on one foot, gripping the ankle of the other after dropping both empty weapons.

He then began to yowl in pain as the facility guards noticed a jagged shard of glass in the sole of his raised foot, probably having been embedded in the turf below and Wilson having had the misfortune to land atop of it. "Oh my FSM, this hurts like a biiiitch!!" He cried out in intense agony as he looked to the guards, his brow furrowing with disappointment as they shrugged and looked at each other confusedly. "Well, don't just stand there, you pricks! Help me get this thing out of my plucking foot!"

He pointed to one of them. "You look like a new guy…Larry", Deadpool said after a pause to squint towards the novice guard's nametag to see his name. The newbie, obviously shaken, hesitated. "C'mon…you don't want your first night to end up as a lawsuit, do ya?" Ramirez, the higher ranked officer, barked out at the maniac because of the weighty threat. "YOU're the one that broke through OUR ceiling, buddy! You've broken a few laws already." Deadpool rolled his eyes, sighing. "But I got injured by the glass funded by this facility. Clearly, my lawsuit would be reinforced by the poor maintenance of this complex, seeing as you can't even clean up some friggin' glass."

Dumbfounded and particularly irritated by the mercenary's logic, Ramirez just casually pointed from Larry to the injured assailant with a grunt. The inept stepped forth and pulled a first aid kit from his waist. Before he could even open it once he reached Deadpool, the masked maniac thrust the large fracture of glass into the stomach of the approaching guard with a kick, who gurgled as the "blade" pierced through the Kevlar vest and became imbedded in both it and in Larry's intestines.

Having gotten the glass stuck in something else, Deadpool cackled as he kicked himself off Larry's chest. "You just got punk'd, sucka!" The boost allowed him to vault over off the garden area into some pillars outlining the lobby just as the other guards began to open fire with the forty-five caliber automatics. Deadpool leaned his head against the pillar, wincing as the penetrated flesh of his injured foot began to mesh itself back together. With a chuckle, he remembered that the only thing he had owned thanks for towards the Weapon X program was a knockoff of the mutant Wolverine's healing factor. "Here's to you, you hairy bastard…" With that mutter to himself, he spun two modified Israeli Desert Eagles off of his belt and into his fingers before leaning out of cover to return fire with five calibers higher and a three round burst to each monster handgun.

The heavy slugs coming closer to their heads then they may comfortable with, the guards decided to duck down, five of them having been effectively pinned down by only one psychopath. "Don't MAKE me come over there, you guys. Just give me clearance to the lower vault and it'll all be hunky-dory with all your limbs still on you" Deadpool yelled his demands over the lobby garden, to which Ramirez yelled "Never!" as he stood to spray his weapon at the attacker in a devout fervor to defend his pay. His attempted suppression was cut short as three fifty-caliber rounds splintered his chest, causing him to fall with ease. "You guys must REALLY like your jobs! It's not like I'm threatening to eat your babies." The maniac then paused for a moment to both suspend the guards and refill his pistols. "Mmmm, BABEHS…" He then howled with perturbing laughter after reloading both of his weapons and continued his pinning.

Without any provocation, the wall behind Deadpool burst inwards in a cataclysmic explosion of a volcanic orange with a strange silvery lining. As he lay dazed amongst the rubble after being tossed, he began to connect dots as to what had just happened to him. His pure white eyes widening from horror, he realized that only this sort of blast could only be released from a certain roundhouse kick (in his mind's eye). He then reached his feet and began to run frantically away from the gaping hole in the wall, jumping over the bewildered heads of the guards opposite him in the lobby. "Whatever deity you worship, people, they have forsaken you!! Chuck Norris is here!! RUN FOR YOUR MISERABLE LIVES!!!" he wailed in sheer terror as he unsheathed his adamantium katanas, the blades flashing briefly in the constant moonlight, and slashed through a door leading to the stockpile in the basement.

Despite being horrified at how Wilson described his assault with relish and great detail, Ms. Cole couldn't help but allow a look of amusement to grace her face at Deadpool's suggested reaction to the explosion. "You thought…it was Chuck Norris, huh?" to which the mercenary's tone dropped to a dangerous level and his eyes took on a serious yet indignant look. "Listen here, sister: If Chuck Norris is in any way involved in ANY job, no amount of cash whatsoever is worth it, bar none! But it really wasn't him…had every right to be afraid it was though."

Panting for air after his frenzied sprint into the lower area of the facility, Deadpool was hunched over, gripping his kneecaps to catch his breath after being winded. He blinked in confusion as he could hear his own breaths as if they were echoing. The manic merc looked up and purposely let out a sighing breath into the darkness as he squinted further down range. Bereft of any outlines in the oblong black, Deadpool drew the conclusion that…the "goods" were already out of there, the basement being completely empty.

Cursing in frustration, he hopped up straight with an aggressive look in his eyes. "Dammit! Being forced into a Norris-Scare is ONE thing but getting 'Rolled' right afterwards into realizing that the job's a muck-up? Someone's gonna be hurting tonight!" he nearly shouted into the darkness. Though it was in the back of his mind, his ears caught the sound of a struggle going on upstairs from where he retreated. He could only discern several grunts and yells, coming from both the entire squad and another new voice: A woman's. Once he had made it back from the underworld of the facility, Deadpool blinked in surprise as he stared across to the pile of unconscious guards and the figure standing victoriously amongst them. The mutant's jaw slackened, not only in awe towards the woman's prowess but also in acknowledgement to how exceedingly beautiful she was.

Clad in a stunning and shape-yielding silver bodysuit with several edged discs along the sleeves and upon the thighs, the woman had a sort of luminescent skin tone, so fair that it was difficult to deem her human. The most unnatural feature of hers was her flowing shoulder-length hair, which was a striking and divine platinum blonde, the hue of which had served to accentuate her ice blue eyes. Her refined European features and full pale lips were locked in a neutral expression as she stood above her fallen targets.

Deadpool was lucky he ran while he did, for the Silver Sable, one of the most cunning and effective guns-for-hire upon the Earth, would have taken him down in a heartbeat. Her efficiency came mostly from her skill, speed and the fact that she seldom killed anyone during a mission, unless they just happen to drive her past the brink of anger. Despite the fact that a female who could drop him like a bad habit with ease confronted Wilson, it did not change the factor that he was entranced…which did not exactly happen often.

Sable caught Deadpool advancing in the shadows as she smirks subtly. "Ahh…Wilson", her voice lightly accented by a western-European lift. "Long time, no see huh?" Deadpool scratched the back of his head as he begrudgingly stepped into the moonlight pouring out into the lobby. "Yeah, I s'pose you could say that." He spoke with caution, as talking to hear was an embarrassing endeavor since the Moroccan Assignment.

Cole interrupted Wilson with respect, questioning what the prior "assignment" was. "Wellll…Sable and I were hired as a team to attack a fortress occupied by HYDRA. Right when we about to barge down the commander's door, she didn't know I had placed a charge on the door. I tried to pull her away…which she had mistaken for…" He coughed to clear his throat before continuing. "'Grabbing up', which led to me getting kicked in the gonads and her leaving, finding me a threat. The two guards who were about to shoot us stopped themselves before they could open up." Begrudgingly gritting his teeth, he continued. "They were too busy laughing their asses off to even aim steadily." The reporter could not help but recreate the scene in her mind and was unable to prevent a small scoff of humor. Annoyed by having to recount one reason why he is the laughing stock of the mercenary world, he raised an eyebrow and questioned with a cynical tone. "May I continue?"

Scowling beneath his mask, he was reluctant to bring his eyes upward to meet hers. "What the hell are you doing here anyway, what with nearly blowing me to smitheroons, like cowroker Jim?" (Hoo, boy, Wilson's crankin' out the Internet references like crazy, huh?) Deadpool jumped as if spooked and swiveled his head about the room in frenzy. "Alright, who the f**k said that?!", he yelled with rage as if this had been haunting him for a long time now. (What? I just started the damn fic…you don't know me.) Sable blinked, bewildered towards his attack of schizophrenia but allowed herself to widen her smirk. "Not too sure…maybe somebody really wants to see you grope me again," She teased with a light giggle. "Hey, quit it!" Wilson barked on the rebound. "How many times do I have to say it? I was worried about your well-being." He blinked, the cheeks on his mask darkening as the un-healing scars mapping his obscured face leaking blood as if he had blushed. "Prolly could have worded that better…" He muttered to himself.

The female merc's smile spread to a full-on grin of amusement. "Yes, you should have…Otherwise, I would get the wrong idea about you." She spoke, wagging her finger only slightly to him in mock scolding. "But yes, I came here to intercept and destroy some military tech that AIM is looking for." Deadpool recognized the name of the former government think-tank Advanced Ideas for Mechanics that became a rogue terrorist cell. "Well, you and they are in for a surprise-" Before Wilson could share the status of the facility's missing inventory; the sound of spinning propellers was heard from the broken top of the lobby. A UH-60 Black Hawk helicopter hovered over the two conversing mercenaries, holding its altitude and movement as four figures clad in vibrant orange body-armor and armed with M4 Carbines dropped from zip-ropes deployed out the sides of the aircraft. Sable and Deadpool had managed to move into cover, hiding behind the pillars surrounding the lobby and beyond the sight of the newly arriving hostiles.

The AIM soldiers unhooked the rifles from their backs upon touchdown. They fanned out, scanning the area and looking down their attached ACOG (Wee, abbreviations!) scopes officially. Their armors were adorned with a superfluous gas mask with two long tubes in each side that led to a pack in their back, which seemed entirely ornamental. It took them a few moments to realize that they were obliviously standing over the unconscious guards strewn about the atrium garden. One of the soldiers approached the tallest members of their squad, whose left arm was especially bulky and armored, obviously cybernetic. "Orders, sir?" The officer responded by pointing the under-slung Masterkey shotgun at one of the incapacitated guards and firing it, ripping apart the Stark employee's torso with a sickening splash. After remorselessly disposing of the guard, the AIM officer looked back to his underling, his golden-lens goggles flashing with light from his turning as he spoke simply through the vox "Repeat."

The soldiers then promptly began to clean up without honor or mercy, which allowed Deadpool to engage his personal teleportation device to the dismay of Sable. "W-what the hell are you doing? Don't leave me in here with them." She whispered fiercely. "Sorry, toots…I wouldn't want to grab up on you again." He chuckled and winked as he dematerialized from the building and reappeared a few miles away from it in an instant.

"…And –that's- how my job went before this interview. I didn't really get paid, but I can't say it wasn't fun." Deadpool shrugged with finality and a faint smirk. Cole blinked with horror. "You left her with those AIM soldiers?" Deadpool responded with a wave of his hand and a tone of expectation "Pfft…She friggin' destroyed them from what I've heard. Come to think of it…I saw it in the headlines of –your- newspaper." Deadpool's eyebrow raised as Cole looked to the side nervously. "Oh! Err…right. Silly me." She looked at her notes and frowned. Wilson, not noticing the shift of her eyes, caught her distraught face. "What's up?" She blinked as she smiled weakly towards him and his inquiry. "Oh…I don't mean to keep you here but…could you give me some more? I haven't got enough for the article I'm writing." Deadpool sighed with slight contempt as he retorted with another passive shrug. "Oh alright…because I can't help but think it fun remembering the physical pain that I've had to endure."

And thus began his recounting of being embroiled in a clone war of the non-lightsaber-y kind, where he was mistaken for another tight-wearer and forced to fight two web-slingers to the not-so death (Wee, hyphens!).

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Next Chapter: The Reilly Factor (AKA: My First and Last Three-some)


	3. Chapter 3

(AN: I'm back! The most sincere apologies to those who might have stuck with me, and welcome to those who are new. I am proud to announce that, now that personal affairs are now in order, I shall be updating Interview with A Psycho every monday. The next Lost Chapters will be released on next Wednesday and will update from there on as well.)

Chapter 3: The Reilly Factor (AKA; My First and Last Threesome)

New York City, Manhattan Borough. A perfect example of both urban glory and social decay, Manhattan is the perfect definition of metropolis where the hustle and bustle is a twenty-four hour cycle on the ground and the buildings' tops rake the sky in their multi-story omniscience. However, where all walks of life converge upon this great testament to the US of A, there comes the ever-flowing tide of the unsavory criminal element, varied in its approach but damaging in its goal. The Kingpin, as his namesake implies, is the top dog in terms of criminal dominance and does not exactly take kindly to disappointment, which his current employee is about to deliver to his doorstep after the fruitless Stark incident.

Wade Wilson began to pace back and forth atop the four-story building while the noon sun beat down overhead. Deadpool, with his hands at his teleportation belt, continued to mutter in great irritation beneath his breath to himself towards the fickleness of the belt's energy regeneration.

"Come _on_…I didn't pack this thing with Energizer Lithium for nothing…and _certainly_ not for anything like shameless product placement…That would be terrible."

He then sighed in exasperation, now realizing that he had to "parkour all up in that mother", which he was not normally opt to do but was motivated to reach the Kingpin and tell him the news rather then have one of the crime-bosses messengers simplify or exaggerate it. Deftly but quite reluctantly, the maniac mercenary pressed on, leaping off rooftops onto adjacent ones and quickly scaling ladders with the utmost swiftness.

Just a few more jumps away from the Kingpin's decidedly obscure but nonetheless large penthouse, Deadpool nearly let out a shriek of joy as he pressed on. Then, at the final jump when he was meant to feel glass in front of him being shattered, he instead felt his left _ribs_ being shattered in place of that as a form landing a solid blow into his side like a surface-to-air missile on its doomed target.

As Wilson descended to a nearby balcony just parallel of the criminal hierophant's loft, face met concrete as his head slammed through the brick-supported railing in his assisted freefall.

The mercenary groaned and held the back of his head while he reached his knees and looked around groggily before letting out a weak chuckle and speaking with irritation to the environment. "Wheew, yeah! That was pretty…quick to react! Christ, it's like the big ol' Fisk got himself trip-wired wrecking balls or something! Must be to keep the monster pidgeons away."

An unexpected reply came swift from the wall behind and slightly above his kneeling place on the outcropping: "How do you know Fisk? Did Warren fill you in on him like he did the other bastard clones?!"

Deadpool looked around and was almost surprised to catch sight of New York's renowned webslinger, Spider-Man, perched with hands and feet against the brick, clad in his trademark black "web"-latticed red and blue suit. Of course, Deadpool did not have enough time to acknowledge the hero much before the Spider grunted and pounced off the wall, fist thrust forward to streak across Wilson's face and send him tumbling through the rest of the railing and plummeting down towards the alleyway.

During his descent, Wilson had an unusual amount of time to think about his life and how much he absolutely, positively, without even a shadow of doubt _hated_ his job with a raw bloody, fiery passion sometimes. It had to only have been momentary before he noticed the paragraphs of text marking down his thoughts beside his inverted pavement-bound head in border-less yellow boxes, to which he nearly shrieked with delight at the return of his longtime companions!

Cole blinked as she took down the thoughts of these "yellow boxes" thoroughly and vividly described by the merc with a mouth. Her colleagues weren't kidding; this guy truly was completely "bonkers". Was it some kind of synthesiac reaction of thought to vision, or just him being an absolute psychotic? Perhaps, she needed more people to call upon for this "story" as it were. She did not have long to ponder it, however before she smiled and politely asked for him to continue onwards.

For what seemed like an eternity, Wilson had been drifting in la-la-land whilst his body had swiftly been falling the towering distance. He was swiftly pulled out of his happy place as he felt another splintering force collide with his right side this time around in midair.

After safely landing in the cushion of a garbage pile in the alleyway, he held onto his right torso, the ribs shattered there as well just as the ones in the left had finished reforming. A few deep breaths later, the completely pulverized bones had knit back together and he was back on his feet before swiveling around in place to look up at the wall, the scene repeating in his mind seeing as it was uncannily alike his first injury.

His eyes scanning along the wall before he fully un-tenses and breathes out with relief, Deadpool then turns, finding himself nearly at eye-level with the webslinger right behind him…but he was rather different then the one that had assaulted him.

This spider had no body webbing, possessed enlarged silverish "eyes", and had implemented a deeper red and a torso with a dark blue vest-like article of clothing surrounding it, a large black arachnid emblazoned over its front. Now it became clear to Wilson what had been going on: the Spider-clones.

James Warren, a renowned geneticist who had recently cracked under the grief of his family's untimely death, had applied his cloning technology to tormenting heroes with clones of loved ones and even themselves. For a time, the issue was strictly private with the original Spider that New York came to love, but the clone before Deadpool now, which claimed himself to be the Scarlet Spider, had swiftly stolen the spotlight and the hearts of the city.

But, with rumors of a serial killer that inhibits the same traits as the Spider himself, the whole clone scandal had become far more than private and thus dangerous for both the original web-slinger and the clone that named himself publicly as Ben Reilly, who seem to have conflicting reasons for saving the city but are content with ripping one another's throats out if given the chance.

Pulled out of his recollections by a low blow to his stomach from what seemed like a cannon-shot in the gut, Deadpool was tossed against the alley's mountain of refuse before Reilly uncoiled his fist and jumped up several feet in bring a double-footed kick into Wilson's face whilst the merc was stunned by the super sucker punch.

Deadpool, naturally quick to react, rolled off the abundance of black bags, extending a leg out as he dismounts in order to have it collide with the Scarlet Spider's abdomen; an eye for an eye (or a spleen for a spleen, as Wilson would have poetically put it, if he was not in the heat of battle).

Fed up with being tossed around like a buttery rag-doll, Wilson landed in a crouch and reached over his shoulders to grip the hilts of his oriental swords, their silver blades barely glistening in the near light-less stretch of alleyway while he remains completely motionless save for his eyes darting between the two Spiders after the original was so kind to join Deadpool and "Ben".

Though Wade was a naturally unreasonable man (a label he took a morbid pride in), he was actually willing to negotiate before he had been beaten across the face and ribs twice over. Now, it was just about to be time for spider-fillet.

Grip tightening and knuckles whitening beneath his red and black gloves, Wilson quirked his brow while he looked between the two other "suits" before speaking in a dark tone. "Alright, you little buggers...You brought this on yourselves. I'm the one that walks the dinosaur around here!" After his grim murmuring had ceased, he sprung up from off of his bent position and began to viciously spin and slice through the air, a maelstrom of sharpened silver hurtling towards the both of them just after he shouted out with a phrase that had bewildered the spiders just as much as it had intimidated them. "Now! FEAR THE HOWL OF THE VENEZUELAN HORNED CHINCHILLA! KEELEEKEELEEKEELEEKEELOO!"

The piercing battle-noise filled out the alley, overshadowed only by the sound of Deadpool's whirling blades, while both Spiderman and the Scarlet Spider attempted to dodge and avoid being dismembered...but even they, with their astronomical reflexes, were hard-pressed, their gasps of struggle only met with gashes all along their bodies from the swords of sharpest, strongest metal streaking over them.

After Wilson fully planted on his feet, he reaches to his thighs to grab at and raise both of his hand-cannons, the black cylinders beneath their volcanic ends emitting a gentle ray of red light that ended upon meeting each of the exhausted arachnid's foreheads, still standing yet huffing from exhaustion.

"Now, give me one good reason that I shouldn't turn your heads into spider-pulp! No, wait...Three good reas-- Nono, three's too much. Two it is, then", Deadpool said as he squeezed a bit further into the triggers with each set of fingers while he awaited their reply.

The original spider raised his hands in front of him, brow creased with worry behind his mask, before he uttered his reply. "Look, I...We figured you were another clone after we were fighting each other. Come to think of it, I don't have any skills like yours that could have been copied." The other one, the Scarlet Spider, shook his head. "Me neither."

Deadpool, with tightened jaw and clenched fingers, finally released a weary sigh, hands with their weapons still loosely held placed at his side while his head hangs. "Gah, dammit...The voices are telling me that you guys aren't worth the trouble...that, and I only have a real blood-lust on Wednesdays and a -partial- lust for it on Mondays...Tuesday is another story though, seeing as that's when my 'Maude' re-runs start..." Wilson soon to simply muttering his thoughts to himself as he clambered up the outcroppings leading to the roof, much more distracted with himself at this point while leaving the two other costume-wearers in the alleyway below.

After his ascension, Wilson decided against trying to leap into the window like he had attempted minutes prior, and instead tried for his teleportation device on his belt. After a few moments of a quiet whirring having filled the air around him, he disappeared in a flash of red light only to appear in Fisk's office; his primary objective.

Cole blinked, looking up from taking down her notes just after he had sifted through them to match up with what the mutant had just depicted, her eyes adorned with perplexity from behind her glasses . "Wait...But you had said that your teleporter was out of energy when you started..."

Deadpool smirks beyond his mask and crossed his arms over his chest. "Convenient, no? That's what the greatness of Deus Ex Machina really is...Speaking of which, can I step out for a second? I remember seeing a cherry tree blossoming outside of the apartment and I need some more petals for my collection."

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Next chapter, Deadpool is commissioned by Fisk and his scientist confidante Alistair Smythe to track down a very powerul item in the hands of Kaine, a deranged and superhuman serial killer. Little does our Merc-with-A-Mouth know, he may find out more then he can handle in this escapade

Chapter 4: Scars (AKA; Duel of the Waffle-faces)


End file.
